


Secret Diego

by lovinthelads



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 20:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9256523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovinthelads/pseuds/lovinthelads
Summary: Not everyone knows the real Diego





	

**Author's Note:**

> Someone requested Diego smut and...this isn't it...

Diego Costa had a reputation that he was well aware of. He was brash and more than a little out of control. He was a joker and never took anything seriously. He was a lot of fun, but never anyone you could count on. He had been horrible to his ex girlfriends, but in his defense, none of those women had exactly been Mother Theresa themselves. It wasn’t like he was meeting sweet young women and turning them into jealous harpies with his evil ways. No, the women who came looking for him did so for a reason: money and fame. So, no, he didn’t particularly feel bad about the way any of that had gone.

He knew it and quite frankly, he was happy to have you think that. People expected very little of him outside of scoring goals, but that was all he wanted to give them. He knew the price of fame was high, and while you were often financially well compensated, the complete and utter lack of privacy was a price too high.

So Diego gave them what they wanted: a dirty bad boy.  
 And kept the truth to himself.

“Diego, we have some new letters from the kids at your academy,” his personal assistant, Charlie said as Diego entered the house after training. He spoke in English, knowing Diego spoke the language far better than he let the press know about.

“Put them on my desk, I’ll get to those this afternoon,” Diego said as he greeted his dog Bella, crouching down to scratch the wiggling animal behind her ears. “Who’s a pretty girl?”

“You don’t have to answer all of them,” Charlie reminded him gently, knowing Diego often spent entire afternoons replying to the kids with personal notes. “I can do those.”

Diego ignored him and went to turn on the kettle and getting a bone for Bella from the cabinet. Of course he had to answer all of them. Most of those kids didn’t have parents. Or at best one parent who struggled to put food on the table. A letter from Diego could help keep that kid in school and give him a chance at a future so many kids from his hometown didn’t have.

“You have that Adidas event at four,” Charlie said as he closed the laptop. His job was to keep Diego’s schedule in order, clean his house, and run his errands. He knew Diego wanted him to do his job and leave him alone.

“Thank you,” Diego finally said as he peered into the fridge for milk.

He wasn’t a bad boss, but Charlie would hardly call him nice. Most weeks he only worked about twenty hours and was paid for full time. However, if Diego ever needed anything, he was on 24 hour call. “If there’s nothing else…?”

“That’s all,” Diego said as the kettle boiled and he dropped a tea bag in a mug with a puppy on the side.

Charlie left Diego to his tea and his dog.

* * * *

“So, Diego, what do you think of the FA Cup match this weekend?” asked a reporter whom Diego pretended to half understand.

“Is good. FA Cup - we want to win.”

“It’s been five years since Chelsea have won the FA Cup. What’s the feeling like in the team?”

“FA Cup is important to football,” Diego said. “We want to win the league, but also the FA Cup.”

Diego wondered how many more inane questions they were going to ask before he could leave. He spied Marcos Alonso across the room and tried to deflect the next question by waving to Marcos.

“I’m running out of bullshit,” he called over in Spanish, and Marcos laughed and came to join them.

“Marcos,” the reported turned his attention to Alonso and Diego escaped. He found the drinks table and snagged a cola.

Several minutes later Marcos found him in a corner crumpling the can between his fingers. “You’re such an asshole,” Marcos told him, still speaking Spanish, as he rolled his eyes at his teammate.

“My English, is not good,” Diego said innocently.

“Sure,” Marcos said as he looked around the room. “How much longer do we have to stay?”

“Hours,” Diego said. “What are you doing later?”

“Going home for a cup of tea and a quiet evening,” Marcos said, dead panned.

“You are full of shit. You want to go out?”

“I really don’t,” Marcos said with a sigh. “Want to come over to mine?”

“Or we could go to mine. I have the new FIFA.” Diego know that Marcos, like him, had gotten really tired of going out only to be hit on by every female within a five mile radius. The Spaniards used to have a pub near Cesc they liked to frequent, but then they’d been discovered by the fame seekers and had to abandon the place. Mostly now Diego liked to go home and spend time with his dog.

“Cool,” Marcos said. “We could order from that Thai place near you?”

“You read my mind.”

* * * *

Diego was in the back, changing after the event, not content as Marcos was to stay in his Adidas gear. Marcos was wandering around the house, looking at the unused rooms to the place, wondering why Diego had bought something so large. He supposed Diego had family who came to visit from Brazil who needed the space, unlike Marcos’s family who came in small doses from the much closer Spain.

He found what appeared to be an office and peeked his head in. Why did Diego have an office? The lads had often questioned, jokingly of course, if the striker could even read, let alone write. Intrigued, Marcos entered, finding a stack of envelopes all hand addressed to people in Diego’s hometown in Brazil. On the wall was a bulletin board full of photographs of kids and drawings.

Upon closer inspection, Marcos found another pile of letters in childish scrawl at the top of the desk. Marcos picked up the letters and saw they were for Diego, from children. There were hundreds of them. Glancing at the middle of the desk, he saw that Diego had left in the middle of one, and saw, in excellent penmanship, a letter to one of the kids, thanking them for the letter and encouraging him to study hard at school. “There’s more to life that football, Mateo. Study hard and make me proud. I want to see your next grade report with top marks on it and I’ll send you a new Brazil kit.”

Marcos smiled and began to look through the other letters. They were sweet, many of them clearly from kids Diego had written to before. One had a picture attached, and Marcos look up at the board, realizing these all must be from kids Diego was writing to.

“What are you doing?” Diego asked, his voice angry as he stepped in and saw the letters in Marcos’s hands. 

“You write to all of these kids?” Marcos asked, amazement in his eyes.

“Put those down,” Diego snapped. “Just…leave it alone.”

Marcos ignored his anger. “This is really awesome, Diego. Who are these kids?”

Diego snatched the letters out of Marcos’s hands and pushed him away. “It’s nothing.”

“Yes it’s something. This is awesome, Diego.”

Diego was still glaring. “They’re just kids from my academy I have…a lot of them don’t have any parents.”

Marcos could feel himself tearing up at the thought. “Diego…you’re just a big teddy bear, aren’t you.”

“Fuck off,” Diego said as he put the letters on the table.

Marcos gave Diego a hug. “You’re not the asshole you want everyone to think you are.”

Diego wanted to shove Marcos away from him, but instead found himself leaning into the hug, letting the warmth take him in. Marcos didn’t want anything from him.

“It’s easier to be an asshole.”

“I know,” Marcos said. “You can keep being an asshole…”

Bella found the two of them and nosed in, not wanting to be left out of a cuddle. Diego ruffled the top of her head and stepped away from Marcos. 

“I’m so kicking your ass at FIFA.”

“Bring it.”


End file.
